


Destiny In Hindsight (Needs Just A Little Push)

by Diana_Prallon



Series: We're Gonna Start A Fire [16]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Pendragon Is King, Canon Era, First Time, M/M, Magic Revealed, Porn with Feelings, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Prallon/pseuds/Diana_Prallon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, no, he would not begrudge Arthur a singular hunting trip, even if it meant risk. If before Merlin arrived Arthur had been sinking under the strain of his obligations, now he was drowning, gasping for air and it tore Merlin apart to see it.  When ordered to set up everything to ride in the middle of the night, he just complied without any of his usual cheekiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny In Hindsight (Needs Just A Little Push)

**Author's Note:**

> The first fic I started for trope_bingo, the last I've finished, and just around the time, too. I'm so glad. When I got the Sex Polen slot on my card, I knew I wanted to make it true - to make it, well, darkovian, if you will. I just hope I've managed not to mangle it too terribly.

Merlin could see better than anyone else the toll that kingship was taking from Arthur, so for all his misgivings, he couldn’t really say no when the King told him that they would be going on a hunting trip, completely alone. They had been in a few scrapes, yes, even recently; but one thing that his many years in Camelot had showed him was that he had more than enough power to protect him from whatever he needed – and if it cost him his secret or even his life, it seemed like a little thing when he could see how the man he served was fraying at the edges.

  
There were new lines around his eyes that did not come from laughter, a tense line in his shoulder after too many losses, too many betrayals. He heard what no one else did, hidden by the darkness during the nights where Arthur forgot he was still around as he went to sleep, the whisper or names in a mantra – Pellinor, Owain, Morgana, Lancelot, Uther and in these last weeks had been added by a new, fresher pain: Gwen, Gwen, Gwen. The gasps of breath that followed it spoke of loss, not of revenge. The silent that had now gathered around their interactions was one the same one of a hurt animal waiting for the next blow – who would be next? Agravaine? Percival? Gwaine? Merlin?

  
When would Gaius, who had been the one to treat his scrappy knees and to show him a kindness that was not pity, turn against him?

  
So for all that it hurt, Merlin could not say he was surprised when Arthur believed the worst of the old physician. Why should Gaius stay when he, like his father, did not trust or accept his kind? How could Arthur expect or demand more when he had never believed himself worth of love and devotion? Merlin’s time under the control of the Fomorroh was mostly like a foggy dream, but some words (or at least the sense of them) stuck out.

  
“Cannot trust anyone.”

  
It was the same terrible sense of dread that led him to even listen to Agravaine when he spoke of executing Elyan for his assault. The man was good, Merlin had to admit, at pushing Arthur’s worst fears: he was mad about Gwen, maybe Arthur even considered himself guilty as well for Tom; he certainly had acted as a man that accepts all bad judgement of himself as he knelled and accepted whatever punishment the druid boy saw fit to take of him.

  
It reminded Merlin too well of all the years he hadn’t been there, when Arthur was not the person he had come to be, grown to be, but an arrogant and scared boy playing at being a man by rules that were neither of his choosing nor to his taste. It reminded him of so many years when there was no one to see him for who he was, to respect him for what he wanted to be, but only for his position and name.

  
So, no, he would not begrudge Arthur a singular hunting trip, even if it meant risk. If before Merlin arrived Arthur had been sinking under the strain of his obligations, now he was drowning, gasping for air and it tore Merlin apart to see it. When ordered to set up everything to ride in the middle of the night, he just complied without any of his usual cheekiness.

  
The moon was still high in the sky as they left, just a note announcing they would be out for a few days – asking the council to see to any business and Leon to train the knights while he attended to urgent, confidential business.

  
They did not rest until there were barely two hours left to dawn, snatching some sleep before setting off again. Arthur had said they’d be hunting, but he seemed far too driven, far too sure of where he was going for that. He did not check for trails, but asked Merlin to gather and pack wood each time they watered the horses, and soon enough they were past the Forest of Brechffa and heading to the pass in the Mountains of Isgard.

  
Merlin had silenced his questions and held down his doubts; but now he finally decided to speak.

  
“I don’t think we will find much game in the mountains – unless you have a hunger for goat? I am sure we could have arranged for it to be sent to Camelot, you know, they are not the kind of creature one needs to hunt.”

  
“And what, _Mer_ lin, do you know about hunting?”

  
“Well, for one, I know that we need to follow an animal’s trail, and there isn’t one here. I also know that in general animals for hunting are found in forests not mountains.”

  
“Aren’t you knowledgeable” replied Arthur, his voice not without mirth.

  
“I _have_ been forced to follow you in hunting expeditions for years” complained the man, but it was all in good nature.

  
“I do not recall asking for your company this time – I actually believe your exact words were ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world’”

  
“Of course!” scoffed Merlin, feeling his heart squeeze at the return of their familiar banter. “What would you do if you were without me? Probably get yourself killed, or worse, get your armour ruined. Do you have any idea how much time I’ve spent caring for this armour?”

  
Arthur turned slightly back to look at him and grinned.

  
“So you came for to insure my safety. Somehow, Merlin, this does not make me feel safer.”

  
“And the armour’s, do not forget” the warlock piped up.

  
“Because I treat it appealingly.”

  
“You must certainly do” agreed Merlin, cheerfully.

  
They rode in silence for a while as the path rose, sharp curves and sudden cliffs; the wind howling around them. Merlin shivered in his clothes, unprepared for the cold air from the mountains. Soon they were forced to dismount and lead their horses carefully; the trail was safe, but not their forte. The sun set sooner in the mountains, and with that in mind Arthur called halt as they found a deep and seemingly uninhabited cave on the mountainside.

  
Merlin had grumbled and complained when, earlier, Arthur had told him to gather wood while the animals rested; he had been almost mutinous when told to make bundles and tie them to his horse, but it made sense now. In the midst of the mountain, wood was scarce and the winds were too strong. Even inside the cave, a chill permeated the air and he was glad to have a way to light a fire while Arthur saw to the horses. Still, the night was spent in the cold. It was always cold in the mountains.

  
As they begun their descend the next day, something in Merlin jotted awake and he finally recognised the path they were taking.

  
“Arthur, why are we heading to Gedref?” he asked, his body tense. Those were disputed lands, and far too close to Odin’s country for his comfort. The King might have be quiet for a long while, but it didn’t mean he had forgiven Arthur for killing his son.

  
“I have business there” was the only response, and once again Merlin felt tense.

  
“This is not safe — we’re too exposed, too close to Odin’s…”

  
“Do you take me for a fool?” Arthur shook his head, exasperated. “We are heading north, over the Pool of Nemhain and following the river until we reach the mountain pass in the end of the Valley of the Fallen Kings.”

  
“Worse and worst — dangerous places, both.”

  
“Don’t be such a coward” Arthur complained, and Merlin knew there was nothing he could say to change his mind. It was a very indirect route, but one that would keep them as safe as they could be. Merlin trusted his magic to protect them both, but he would prefer if it didn’t become a matter of reveal or death.

  
Naturally, it was a foolish hope to have.

  
They had crossed the plains up to the pool with little to no problem — they saw no one around. Even the sounds of the land were muted, as if the woods kept their silence in their eternal guard of the dead. It made Merlin feel uneasy, but he knew that voicing it would lead no were. Arthur would call the sacred place a foolish superstition, and it mattered little that not long ago one of his knights had been pulled from their rest to this very shores. At least, the king made no move to drink the water, black as it was.

  
“Magic ruined this place” he muttered, eventually. “It must have been a pretty place, once.”

  
“There is beauty in here” Merlin replied, looking around. He had never been close to it before. “A different sort — it’s… peaceful.”

  
Arthur grunted, pressing the pace until they reached the river. Unlike the lake, in it the waters were clean and transparent.

“An easy ride, now. All open spaces — we’ll be by the mountain pass in the evening.”

  
The King had been right about it; and they crossed it quickly, much more quickly than the last time Merlin had wandered around this parts, so many years ago.

  
They made camp as the sun set, and Merlin fancied he could smell the sea across the hills.

  
“Will you tell me now what this business of yours is?” he enquired, as they finished eating.

  
Arthur eyed him wearily.

  
“If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anybody.”

  
“I never tell your secrets!” he complained.

  
“Not even Gaius.”

  
“Alright” he agreed, without having any intention to keep the promise.

  
“You also have to swear you won’t try to change my mind — I’m sure about it. It is for the best.”

  
This made Merlin frown; it sounded a bit suspicious.

  
“I can’t promise that — but you have such a fat head, I doubt I could change it if I wanted to.”

  
They both knew it wasn’t true and that Merlin had done so before, but it made Arthur snort and the air around them felt lighter than it had in weeks.

  
“I’m meeting a retinue from Nemeth. I am about the seal a treaty with them, making peace between our kingdoms.”

  
It wasn’t all that surprising that Arthur didn’t seem worried about entering Gedref now, if peace talks were in place — still, it didn’t add up. He could understand the secrecy. Many, his uncle included, might have tried to stop the talks that would end a profitable war and fortify Camelot. There was no reason he might suspect Merlin wouldn’t like it.

  
“It sounds like a good thing.”

  
“It is an wonderful alliance. One we might need in the future.”

  
“So why would I try to change your mind?”

  
Arthur gave a grimace at this.

  
“One of the terms in this agreement is that I will take princess Mithian as my wife.”

  
This made Merlin spit the rest of his water, looking at him in shock.

  
“You — you can’t.”

  
Arthur shook his head, as if he had been expecting it.

  
“Let me remind you of something — I’m the King. The decision is mine alone.”

  
“But, but, but—” he spluttered, trying to find the words without reminding him too strongly of Gwen; he knew exactly how Arthur would react that without stocks available for him to be sent, he didn’t want to test his reaction; the very name was forbidden. “You don’t love her!”

  
Surprisingly, Arthur barked out a laugh at that.

  
“Oh, Merlin” he seemed to be partially amused by it. “This is not about romance; it is about politics. Not everyone has the chance of marrying whom they wish, a King less of all.”

It was the warlock’s turn to shake his head, not wanting to believe it.

  
“No — this is… This isn’t you talking. I thought you had been clear — I thought you had made up your mind, decided that politics weren’t a good reason for such a commitment; all that debacle with Elena, and…”

  
Arthur gestured it away, as if it didn’t matter.

  
“Things change” he said, simply. “I didn’t need to marry her to secure anything; so it mattered very little that we didn’t marry. Now, Nemeth… Being a king means sacrificing for my people — even at the cost of personal happiness, if that is what it takes.”

  
His words floated in the empty night, and for a long while none of them spoke. Merlin couldn’t believe it. He knew, in his heart, that Arthur should marry Gwen. She would make a wonderful Queen, and Arthur loved her, and together they could accomplish so much.

  
“Isn’t this…” he started, unsure of what to say. “Isn’t this too soon?”

  
Arthur’s face became quickly closed off at that.

  
“Go to sleep, Merlin” he ordered, posting himself to guard the space. “I’ll take the first watch.”

  
“But Arthur…” he just couldn’t let it go, and if his own happiness wasn’t enough, he might have to push for his honor. “Arthur, it isn’t fair to the princess to marry her when you love another woman.”  
For the first time in many years, he couldn’t read Arthur face as he replied.

  
“There is no woman I love.”

  
The surety, the finality of his voice was something Merlin had never imagined to see. There was no room for debate, there wasn’t anger, or even sadness. It wasn’t a lie — it wasn’t a cry for help. It was a simple truth being spoken, if a sad one. The King’s eyes strayed from his face, and he looked at nothing, his cheeks tinged with red.

  
“Get some sleep” he said, and Merlin was too bewildered to argue.

  
Sleep was hard in coming, but fast in disappearing as the world exploded in sound. Merlin didn’t remember how he moved from his position, but he was standing and facing a horde of bandits in the following moment as the sun just started rising in the sky.

  
“RUN!” Arthur yelled as he stuck his sword into a man’s guts and pulled it free as if it was easy.

  
Merlin couldn’t just leave, he couldn’t leave Arthur behind, he leaned down and pulled the man’s weapon, ready to fight if he could, when Arthur pulled him by the shoulder and dragged him away.  
“STUPID” he complaint in a shout. “COME ON, MOVE.”

  
Together they headed to the stones looming above them, and Merlin was about to point out that it was stupid to trap themselves with it when the King threw himself inside a cave opening. Merlin dodged inside behind him, and looked around, trying to see a good place to make a stand, but Arthur just kept walking forward into the darkness.

  
“Arthur…” he whispered, and a hand slapped his head.

  
“Walk fast and don’t speak.”

  
It didn’t take long for their attackers to find the place where they had entered, and through the echos of the rock it was hard to know for sure how close they were. Merlin couldn’t see a thing ahead of him, but Arthur’s hand was firm around his wrist, so he kept going. He had no idea how long they had been walking through the cave complex, twisting and turning, when the sounds finally died down.  
They were alone in the darkness.

  
Arthur didn’t stop, not for another few minutes, before he finally let go of him.

  
“I think we lost them.”

  
Merlin was awed by the place itself. A small opening far above let a trickle of light come through and he saw the beginnings of a river on the floor.

  
“How did you know this place — how did you know it was so big?”

  
Arthur shrugged, his breath still short.

  
“Some old battle — the army that Camelot was fighting trickled inside and never came up.”

  
Merlin frowned.

  
“Those don’t seem like the best references for a escape.”

  
“Shut up, Merlin” Arthur replied, kneeling near the water. He drank it deeply before continuing. “All we need to do is retrace our steps.”

  
“Easier said than done — especially when we have no light.”

  
Arthur snorted and ruffled his head when he stood up.

  
“Have a little faith” he said. “You should drink”.

  
The water was cold his hands were numb even as he cupped them, but it was fresh and a balm to his aching throat. It tasted like hope and magic, and it filled him as if it was food, making him warm inside.

  
Arthur didn’t waste time, walking as soon as he was back up.

  
“Come on — things to do.”

  
At first, it seemed that Arthur was right about being easy. They walked and even in the darkness, there were marks Merlin recognised from their flights. Still, an hour later, after a soft turn they found themselves back at the big cave with the springhead, finding it unchanged. Even the light seemed to be coming from the same place. Arthur grumbled and yelled in frustration, and kicked a rock as if it would make it part or magically show him the way.

  
“Calm down” Merlin pleaded, but the King was pulling at his own hair.

  
“We’re lost in caves where a whole army disappeared two hundred years ago and you’re asking me to be calm!” he shouted, annoyed.

  
Merlin could see his point, in fact, he had been the first to call it a bad idea, but it wouldn’t help them find their way out.

  
“Maybe we should just follow it” he said, eyeing the trickle of water.

  
“What?” Arthur barked, still annoyed.

  
“The water” he gestured. “All rivers flow to the sea in the end, right? It’ll lead us out.”

  
“And what do you suggest we do if it leads us to a cliff over the ocean, Merlin? What then?” his voice was strained, and Merlin had to agree it was a fair point.

  
“It’s still a better idea then walking around in circles.”

  
Slowly, the king came around, nodding.

  
“You’re not completely stupid after all” he mumbled, and Merlin grinned, unseen.

  
It was an easier walk, with the water sounds to guide them. They spoke little, the echo of the running water all around them. One step in front of the other, and Merlin allowed his head to roam free, trying to figure out Arthur’s sudden interest in peace conversations and marriages of convenience, when he had been head over heels in love not so long ago. And yet — there had been no doubt, no lie in his voice as he denied feeling it the night before. Merlin couldn’t understand it, how it could have changed in a couple of months what had been his desire for years.

  
Finally, the saw light outside and both rushed towards it as if they couldn’t get there faster. The tunnel grew larger, and the water became stronger as the small wells they had passed inside joined it in their race towards the sea. They traded out, half running, uncaring if their clothes became sodden with water, stepping inside the riverbed in their desperation to finally leave the caves.  
Stepping outside was blinding after hours spent in the darkness.

  
Once Merlin finally could see again, he found himself standing in a soft hill, facing a small valley. The river circled it through both sides, running left and right next to the mountains until it reached the sea, barely over a mile ahead. The warlock could see it: green and wide, sparkling under the sun that was lowering itself in the sky. The waves kissed the bright sand, that soon became mixed with green in torn ivy, swirling through white sand and green grass that covered the groin until where he stood, but between him and the sea, over the grass, there was a large spread of flowers, golden and shining under the sun, like living bells. It was beautiful, and everything around him felt more alive than it was by itself. A sacred place, undoubtedly. A safe place for them to rest, even if there was no way out.  
Arthur spun around, turning towards him, and found him stunned speechless.

  
“Don’t be such a girl” he warned, coming closer.

  
“Have you ever seen those?” he asked, gesturing towards the flowers, and Arthur denied it with his head.

  
“No — but it looks a bit like the one I fetched for you — the morteaus flower or whatnot” he frowned, looking at them. “Well, except it didn’t shine.”

  
“It’s beautiful” he whispered, reverent, daring to approach and touch it.

  
“We’ll have to spend the night here” Arthur said, looking around. “At least the are some berries of those bushes.”

  
He walked towards them, and Merlin saw them for the first time.

  
They looked like common berries, but bigger, somehow, and the bush was heavy with fruit even though this wasn’t the season for berries. Arthur picked up a few and plopped one into his mouth.  
“Come on, you must be hungry” he said, sitting himself on the grass.

  
“Starving” Merlin admitted, picking one for himself.

  
He would never be able to truly explain to anybody what happened next. He knew he ate a berry, the taste spreading through his mouth, savoury and bitter at once, and the wind had blown from the sea, making the flowers sway and spreading golden dust through the air. Merlin smiled, and even Arthur seemed to enjoy it.

  
“It’s beautiful” the king said, looking at the golden cloud that enveloped them.

  
He smiled, seeming happy to just be, and Merlin smiled as well. Arthur laughed and threw a berry at him, that he promptly caught with his mouth, crushing it between his teeth, the juice dribbling through his lips while the King kept on laughing.

  
“You can’t even eat by yourself!” he said, almost out of breath.

  
“I _didn’t_ eat, you _threw_ it!”

  
“Well, I’ll feed you, then” and Arthur’s hand was gentle as it teased his lips with the berry before pushing them inside. “Your lips are stained — berry coloured.”

  
“Berry tasting too” Merlin said, swallowing them, and Arthur gulped without drinking.

  
“Let me see” was all he said, before lunging forward and kissing Merlin.

  
There was nothing, nothing that could have compared to it — the skies might have opened, all the armies of the world pouring down to attack them, and Merlin wouldn’t have noticed. There was nothing else but Arthur’s lips, soft and tasting so good over him. Arthur growled and opened up his mouth, tongue pressing against Merlin’s, and the warlock could do nothing but sight and accept it, accept the gift given, nothing else in his mind but his king, occupying every single space of it.

  
Somehow, he knew Arthur had nothing else in his mind either. His thoughts were a jumble of lust and adoration as he pushed their bodies into the grass. Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck, pulling him close, pressing himself against his Armour clad body, relishing every single touch. Arthur seemed to approve as he bit Merlin’s underlip and moved back to sitting.

  
Merlin barely had the time to miss the warmth against him before he understood what was happening — how the king was stripping down his armour, standing against the sea in nothing but breeches that did nothing to hide his arousal and a thin white tunic that clang to his sweaty body. It gave Merlin a deep pang of desire, and it must have shown in his face, because Arthur moaned from where he stood, and lowered himself back.

  
It was too much, too much, and Merlin wasn’t about to just receive it — he rolled them Arthur, stranding on top of Arthur, kissing him wildly, lips brushing and crushing everything they saw — collarbones, chest, the dark nipples that were shown by the ripped tunic (how had this happened?), the golden hair covering his belly, and his name was on the King’s lips, and he could hear him chanting, pleading, hoping even if his lips didn’t move. He needed nothing to know what Arthur wanted — what Merlin wanted, it was so hard to discern then — as his hands, suddenly more skilled and stronger than usual lowered to rip open the fabric, exposing Arthur’s cock in all it’s glory to the elements.

  
For a second, he could to nothing but watch, awed by it — venerating the sight before him, the beauty of swollen muscles and marked veins, the delicacy of the drops leaking and the hair curling — but it was not enough, he needed to worship it with his body, and he held it firmly in his hand. Arthur grunted, eyes wide, lips parted as his mind wondered what would happen next, what was Merlin’s next secret. Not willing to let his lord wait, Merlin lowered his head, swirling his tongue around the cock in from of him, and the loud sound coming from Arthur’s mouth paled in comparison to the strength of the pleasure that hit him from all sides. He moved, rubbing his underlip through the its length, wrapping his lips around it and sucking with all he could, but it was too much, he could feel it too, as if it was his own body that he was pleasuring as his head bobbed up and down, swallowing pre-come together with his own spit, lowering himself, gagging and moaning around Arthur’s body, and shuddering as he shouted his release and still he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t let go, he had to continue sucking until he was pulled away.

  
Arthur kissed once more his bruised lips, bit his neck, pulled away his clothes, leaving him naked as well, and each touch of Arthur’s hands, lips, or any expense of skin sent a jolt through his body. Merlin moaned when Arthur caught his dick in his fist, squeezing it, and the king’s kiss muffled it too. He hadn’t expected it, but Arthur was soon upon him, pleasuring him the exact same way — if wilder — and he sucked as much as he could, licking every inch of skin, burying his nose into Merlin’s curls, calling his name even when his mouth couldn’t move, and Merlin couldn’t help it, couldn’t control it, couldn’t stop himself if he wanted, eyes shooting open, golden, screaming his pleasure to the skies.

  
The king rose, coming dribbling out of his mouth, his body seeming unrested by the pleasure he had — because it would never be enough, Merlin knew that now, because they needed to continue forever — and picked the nearest flower, destroying it with his fingers and feeling something. Merlin knew, without knowing how, what would come next, as he knelled again between Merlin’s legs, parted his cheeks and touched his hole. It opened up, easily, as if it was eager to receive anything, everything that Arthur could give, and after a small moment, the king pulled him into sitting again.

They needed no words, no direction, not when everything in them seemed connected. Arthur’s cock was still standing strong, and Merlin lowered himself in a single, swift movement, taking it all at once inside himself. Arthur looked inside his eyes for a moment before kissing him, and Merlin felt as if the whole world had come together as their bodies did. In an urge that was as old as time, he felt the compulsion to move, to grind, to swirl his hips and clench his ass, trapping Arthur in him forever. He could feel it building between them, strong between their shared breaths as they kissed and stared into each other’s eyes, always moving, always chasing that one thing that seemed to go above and beyond everything that was ordinary.

  
Merlin knew long before Arthur came that it was about to happen, he knew it with all his senses, with Arthur’s senses, as their individual selves disappeared and they became a single thing, orgasms but a part of their shared bliss, that was one and the same. And suddenly, it was all there, in the open: the love that Merlin had hidden, all the things he had done, the magic that was as part of him as his very soul; Arthur’s long held suspicions on his true nature, his continuous pining for him, his revelation that it had, in truth, been Merlin all along that he loved and longed for, how he would — eventually — forgive him for any and everything, how he wanted nothing more but to be with him, inside him, under him, a life shared, a love shared, a soul shared, forever, as it was in this moment.  
He knew his eyes where shining in gold, but it didn’t matter now. There were no secrets between them, there was nothing separating them, they were bared to each other, completely.

  
And he knew, without knowing who had thought it, that it would all be well.

 

 

 


End file.
